The Wizard's Angel
by AngelMoon Girl
Summary: Straight from Heaven descends the celestial gang from Touched By an Angel, on assignment to return hope to a teen named Harry Potter. Monica takes him under her wing, but she's in for a shock upon discovering his magical abilities and dangerous future.
1. Watched Over By Angels

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Touched By An Angel!

A/N: This is a Touched By An Angel and Harry Potter crossover. It takes place the summer after fifth year, about mid-summer and before Harry has turned 16. After you finish, review, because the more who review the faster I update! I don't think you'll need to have seen Touched By An Angel to read this story, but it would help probably.

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 1: "Watched Over By Angels"

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The sun beat down overhead, hot in the stifling mid-summer air. A faint buzz of flies permeated the neighborhood of Privet Drive, adding on to the noises of children playing and birds chirping. The sky above was a beautiful light blue, as puffy white clouds drifted lazily by. Everything looked completely normal, except for the image of two women sitting atop a tightly-shingled roof, chiseled to perfection. 

And luckily, no one could see them, for the two mysterious ones were invisible to the eye. It was as if they'd literally dropped from the heavens.

One was an older woman, with elegantly styled curly grey-and-white sprinkled hair. She bore a wise face, warm eyes, and had the disposition of a no-nonsense, yet loving grandmother. Another woman sat beside her, considerably younger and looking to be only in her twenties or early thirties. Her wavy chestnut brown hair rustled softly in the hot breeze, and she smiled as she looked down at the people fraternizing, cleaning, gardening, or playing below. Her smile encompassed her whole face, lighting it up as if she were a benign angel.

Which, in fact, she was. So was the woman beside her, fanning herself wildly.

"It's too _hot_ to be out in this weather," the older of the two complained, sweating slightly. "Being in human form certainly has its faults in weather like this!"

The brunette beside her laughed, the sound twinkly as she replied in an Irish accent, "Oh, Tess, that's one of the merits of taking on human form! Being able to feel what they feel, see how they see..."

The one named Tess just grumbled under her breath.

"Anyways, why did you bring me here? Is my assignment in this neighborhood?"

"Actually, your assignment is right there," Tess replied smoothly, pointing down to the house beside them. A boy of about 15 or 16 years old was working in an immaculate garden, shirtless as shiny sweat gleamed off his back. His ebony, messy black hair hung over his eyes, but when he looked up to wipe the strands back, the two saw his emerald eyes. The orbs were like green oceans, containing so much depth and emotion. They truely were windows to this teen's soul.

The younger angel looked around the yard; the house.

"It looks so clean; so ordinary."

Indeed, everything seemed to have its place, and every inch of the house looked scrubbed into spotlessness.

"Monica, looks can be deceiving. Don't be too quick too judge _anything_. That house; those walls hide much more than what you see. Underneath, there is something so deep, so hidden, that the family strives to hide it from everyone around. Do you understand, Monica?"

Monica, the brunette, nodded. Her eyes narrowed in close watch as suddenly the door opened. Through it came the most unpleasant man she had ever seen, and she had encountered many people!

His beefy neck almost juggled atop his large body as he waddled over to the boy, face red and mustache quivering. His little beady eyes glared accusingly at the innocent boy, and there was a frightening aura about him.

He stopped just behind the boy, shadow looming over the raven-head like a bull's. The child visibly tensed, but didn't turn- he just kept pruning and pulling the stubborn weeds with steady, skilled hands.

The beefy man drew in a deep, snort-like breath, then shouted: "HARRY POTTER!"

Harry flinched at the yell, but obediently turned and stood, carefully keeping his eyes centered on the ground. He only reached up to the man's chest height-wise, and it looked quite intimidating to the two bystanders.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon's eyes flashed as he watched Harry subtly try to step back and give himself some space. With a feral growl, he grabbed the boy's arm and shook him.

"What are you thinking? This looks terrible! Petunia and I told you to _prune_ the roses, not _ruin_ them! It looks... like... like a trash heap!"

A vein pulsed on Vernon's forehead as his jugular neck trembled dangerously.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled automatically, even though he really had nothing to be sorry for. In fact, to Monica the roses looked beautiful! Except, Vernon didn't see it that way.

"You idiot, look me in the eye! Are you a coward!?" Vernon shouted, giving the boy another rough shake. Harry slowly locked eyes on his uncle, hate visibly circling within. Vernon snarled as he saw, and threw Harry into the garden, effectively crushing the roses and all the hard work Harry had gone to to get them so beautiful.

"I expect this garden perfect, or no supper, boy!"

Which was quite unfair, since mid-afternoon was already on the neighborhood, and dinner would be soon. It would be impossible to fix them now, and in enough time. Uncle Vernon had seen to that, and quite maliciously.

With a last back-hand across Harry's head, Vernon Dursley stomped away, superiority riding on his shoulders.

Monica watched with wide eyes as Harry rubbed the back of his sore head, then continued working without even a word of objection or self-pity. She turned to Tess, hazel-brown eyes big and fearful.

"Is he... abused?" she whispered.

Tess turned sorrowful eyes on her charge.

"Yes. In the worst way. Neglect. It's not just physical and verbal, baby."

Monica bit her lip, ears tearing at such violence. "Is this... what they're hiding? This... obscenity?"

"Oh, Monica... this isn't even the tip of the iceberg."

Monica sucked in an astounded breath as she looked back to her assignment, wondering what this family, this boy, could possibly hiding...

Something secret, lurking behind spotless walls and finely-pruned gardens.

Something they didn't want anyone to know.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and I will update ASAP! The more who review, the faster I update! 

Yours,

**AngelMoon Girl**


	2. The New Arrival

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Touched By An Angel.

A/N: Read and review once finished, since the more reviews I get, the faster I update. And I will NOT be abandoning this story, as some of you have begged me not to do. I never abandon a story, but sometimes get caught up in the daily trials of life and so sometimes it may take me a little while to update. But don't fear! AngelMoon Girl will never abandon a story unless she (gulp, knock on wood) dies in a freak accident or something...

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 2: "The New Arrival"

* * *

"Boy! Breakfast!" 

Harry groaned at the rapping that proceeded this announcement.

"G'way," he mumbled, still half-asleep as he swatted at nothing from in his bed.

"BOY!"

Harry jolted into awareness, sitting up fast. "Okay, okay, I'm coming!"

At last, the rapping on his door stopped and he listened to the footsteps of his Aunt Petunia die away down the stairs. With a large yawn, the Boy-Who-Lived slipped out of bed and pulled on his baggy clothes, preparing himself for another day of chores, Dursleys, and trying to pretend that the whole last couple weeks had never happened, especially-

_No_, Harry told himself sternly, fighting away the lump in his throat. _No. Don't think about him_.

He strutted over to the door and went downstairs to a normal breakfast in the Dursley house. An 'Ignore Harry unless you have a chore for him or want him to pass you something' breakfast, to be exact.

Except today didn't seem to be following by those guidelines.

When Harry got downstairs, the first thing he noticed was that every member of the Dursley family was wearing their fancy suits. Each one looked prim and proper, and Dudley seemed to be fidgeting more than usual.

Harry broke his own code of not talking to them unless necessary by asking, "Er... am I missing something?"

"We have a guest coming today," Aunt Petunia responded tersely, looking at the wall to the other side of Harry than at him. She sniffed irritably and glanced at him quickly. "Go put something nice on. You can't where _those_ things."

"I don't _have_ anything 'nice'," Harry growled, clenching his fists into balls. "These are the only types of clothes I have. Baggy hand-me-downs from Dudley."

"Well then, you'll just have to ruddy stay in your room the whole day, now won't you?" Uncle Vernon sneered from behind his newspaper.

Harry held back a feral growl. Really, if they wanted him to dress up, then they should give him some nicer clothes!

The doorbell rang and Petunia jumped. "That'll be her! Dudley, pat your hair down some more! Vernon, get the door!"

"What's going on? Who's coming?" Harry inquired amidst chaos, the lone one that wasn't moving frantically.

"Boy! Upstairs!" Vernon cried, grabbing Harry by the arm and shoving him towards the staircase.

"But-"

"Now!"

Harry obediently trotted up the stairs just as he heard Uncle Vernon open the door and welcome, "Monica! Good to see you! Come in."

Curiousity overcame Harry's fear of what Uncle Vernon would do if he caught him, so he snook down the stairs and peaked around the corner.

Stepping over the threshold was a beautiful woman in her late twenties or early thirties, with soft brown hair that fell to a little below her shoulders. Her eyes were a brownish-hazel and they whispered wisdom of things Harry could never even imagine. Her black suit and skirt was neat and clean, just the sort of thing his uncle and aunt loved.

Just as he was examining this new arrival, Monica's eyes roved over and caught onto his own emerald ones. Without a quick suck-in of breath, Harry shot back upstairs. He closed his door softly and sat down onto his bed, thoughtful.

She had seemed to stare right through him; see something or know something about him. And that feeling confused Harry, because he had never met this woman before. Heck, the only thing he knew about her was that her name was Monica! He didn't even know why she was here or why the Dursleys wanted to look their best for her.

Millions of questions with no answers swirled around Harry's brain, until he could do nothing but pace for lack of anything to do.

A pecking at his window drew Harry from his incomprehensible thoughts, and he rushed over and pulled it open. His snowy owl Hedwig flew in, letter clasped in her beak. She dropped it on Harry's bed and nipped him affectionately. Harry stroked her feathers lovingly, then guided her over to the small cage for water.

He opened the note and scanned its contents. It was from Ron.

_Dear Harry,_

_Hope you're well, and that the Dursleys are treating you right. Everything here at the Burrow is fine. I can't give much information on you-know-what activity, but it's keeping Mum, Dad, and the others really busy. Sometimes I get mad (and I know Ginny does too, since she's a bit more -expressive- about it) that I can't do much to help in the way of you-know-what, but Mum keeps going on about how young I am and how dangerous this is... it's like everything you, Hermione, and I have done has never happened! Jeez. _

_Speaking of Hermione, I heard she's really enjoying her stay in Switzerland... she keeps going on and on about the humungous library there. That's our Hermione, I guess. Anyways, Mum's calling me for supper. Write back soon, alright?_

_Ron_

_P.S. We're going to headquarters soon. Trying to arrange for you to also, but it's difficult. Dumbledore seems to think you staying there for a bit longer is best. Stay strong, Harry. You won't have to be there a lot longer, if Mum has anything to say about it!_

Harry neatly folded the letter back up and stuck it under the floorboard, where the rest of his letters lay. He then fell back onto the bed and sighed.

Of course Dumbledore wouldn't want him to leave just yet. Despite Ron's reassuring, Harry knew he wasn't going to be able to leave any time soon. Dumbledore had explained it all to him at the end of last term. He shared a blood protection with the Dursley's because of his mother's sacrifice, so as long as he was here, it would continue. Voldemort would be unable to touch him in this house as long as that bond was still there.

Harry sighed again.

Ron was so lucky to have a family, despite all his griping about them. It made Harry long for such a close-knit relationship with someone. The only someone that he'd really ever had that with was now-

_SHUT UP! _Harry roared to his brain, rolling over and thinking of anything but Sirius. Whenever his thoughts drifted in that direction, his eyes filled with fire; fire that wanted to burst out in the form of tears. And Harry could not submit to such weakness!

A twinkling laughed sounded from downstairs, getting Harry back onto his thoughts of the mysterious Monica.

Who was she?

Why was she here, and why were the Dursleys so intent to impress her? They only did that for important people, or special guests...

Harry sat up, squaring his shoulders.

He could take it no longer. He HAD to find out who she was. What if... she was working for Voldemort, and was only trying to get inside to get Harry?

Fear gripped the boy as he realized he was defenseless. Magic was forbidden during the summer until one came of age, unless under serious circumstances. Of course, a disguised Death Eater trying to attack him would constitute as a "serious circumstance", but the Ministry's actions as of last year had proven that anything Harry did would not slip or bode very well.

And Harry did NOT want a repeat of last year.

Then again, he didn't want to be attacked unawares.

Though Voldemort himself could not touch Harry because of the blood protection, did that also apply to the Death Eaters? What if the Dark Lord could send them here?

Yes, he was going to find out who this Monica person was. Was she a friend or foe?

Harry steeled his resolve and retrieved his wand, slipping it into his sleeve to secrete it. Then, he pulled open his door and slipped out into the hallway.

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A/N: Heh heh, I know, I'm bad to just stop there. But it's not that bad a cliffhanger as what I can do, as some know! I'm infamous for my evil cliffhangers. 

Review, and I'll update faster (or as fast as I can go!)

**AngelMoon Girl**


	3. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story. Unfortunately it brings me no money (sniffle).

A/N: You reviewers are just so... amazing! You blew me away! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed for this story as of yet, and I hope you continue to be so fantastic. This lil' shout-out is going to: **sweetgirl23, jeanette russell, Mara Weaves, carolquin, GenkaiFan, jabarber69, Serenity18chibi, ilovethestorys, King of Wolves, Marti Pfaff, mae-E, OneBlazeOfGlory2007, Prd2bAmerican18, meghan brock, shizukesa-sama, bellashade, Kate, the-dreamer4, Fabi, LittleEar BigEar's sis, HP Girl 28, Gwinna, **and** Digi Bonds. **Already 30 reviews and only for two chapters worth! WOW!

Sorry this chapter took a little while to come out. I've been busy with my other stories and the whole document uploading not working really put a damper on working on this as well. But here's chapter 3, and the more who review for this, the faster I update! Enjoy!

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 3: "First Impressions"

* * *

Harry inched down the stairs with the skill of a lion about to hunt its prey. Each step had to be creakless, each movement planned... 

He reached the bottom and stealthily moved across the hallway floor, peaking into the living room where everyone was situated. He fingered his wand hidden beneath his sleeve, cool to his skin and reassuring to the touch.

Monica was seated on the velvet sofa with Dudley at her side. The fat boy was sweating terribly, looking as if he were about to suffocate in his classy suit. Monica looked perfectly fine and placid, and was listening intently to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, across from the two. Harry perked his ears up to hear what his uncle was saying.

"-the pay is a steady income, and hours must always be kept. You will not be late unless under emergency. I want Dudley to get perfect grades this year, and if they are anything less than that, Petunia and I won't fail to hire someone else."

_Dudley, perfect grades?_ Harry snorted. _Really, now that was funny!_ The Boy-Who-Lived thought upon what his uncle had just proclaimed. So... was Monica a tutor of some sort for Dudley? He frowned. That didn't mean she wasn't working for Voldemort, though.

Monica just smiled pleasantly under the onslaught of rules. "Oh, I'm sure you'll be quite happy, Mr. Dursley. I intend to work my hardest to help get Dudley up to par with the other children."

Apparently, that was not the right thing to say.

Aunt Petunia's eyebrow twitched twice, and Vernon's face went red. However, his voice remained calm, albeit strained, as he stiffly replied:

"Dudley is quite up to par with the other students, thank you very _much_. He just has more difficulty concentrating than them."

Dudley nodded vigorously for effect, smug smirk in place.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Dursley. I didn't mean to have my comment come out that way. Your boy is a lovely, bright child," Monica apologized, inclining her head slightly. "What about the other child?"

Vernon's mouth quivered and twitched unpleasantly. "_What_ other child?"

"The boy! About Dudley's age, maybe a year or so younger... skinny..." Monica described, nonplussed as she trailed off slightly. Honest confusion was written all over her face. Harry _had_ called Vernon 'Uncle' when she had been watching the two's interaction, hadn't he? And he was in this house, she had seen him! In fact, she was wondering why he wasn't in here, right now, with the family. Perhaps he was quiet and preferred being alone?

"Don't you have a nephew, or something?"

Vernon put on his best truth face, which wasn't very convincing. "There is no other boy."

"I could have sworn I saw another boy when I came in-"

"What!?" Uncle Vernon snorted, anger boiling once more. Monica briefly pondered what she had said to provoke him.

"Yes, at the staircase-"

Vernon mumbled something under his breath menacingly, then said, knowing it was no use pretending any more, "Oh, _that_ boy! Yes, that's just our nephew. Quite disturbed- he doesn't really like people..."

Monica could sense he was half-lying, but didn't press the issue. Instead, she moved on to another.

"Will I be tutoring him too?"

Vernon snarled his response in the negative, and forcefully. "He doesn't need help."

"Oh."

An uncomfortable silence overcame the quartet, and Harry held his breath, fearful of making any noise lest he be discovered.

"Well, shall I begin?" Monica asked at last, breaking the tension of sorts. Dudley nodded, though his face was sour and Harry could see he wished he could be doing anything but studying. Then again, who would want to do school in summer?

_I do_, Harry's inner voice whispered. _Anything but this_. The boy felt homesickness well up inside him as he thought of his friends and the magical castle school of Hogwarts. That place was his true home, along with the house in Godric Hollow he did not remember...

"Let's go in the kitchen to study," the brunette offered, and got up with Dudley on her tail. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia followed, and Harry found himself quite trapped. If he made a break for the staircase, he'd be caught for not being quick enough. But if he stayed there, he would still be caught. It all came down to which was the lesser evil, or in his case, the lesser berating and possible punishment.

He made up his mind.

"Boy!?" Vernon shrieked, seeing his nephew motionless in the hall. "I thought I told you to stay upstairs!?"

"I... was hungry," Harry said without thinking, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"Hungry," Vernon repeated, while Petunia silently fumed at his side. "Did we not _just _have breakfast?"

"Yes, but-but I was... not full," Harry lamely replied, shuffling his feet nervously. Oh, why did he have to say _hungry_, of all things!?

Petunia narrowed her beady eyes at the offspring of her hated sister, proof to her _abnormalness_. "Are you sure you weren't eavesdropping, perhaps?" Her voice was laced with subtle sarcasm.

"No, I wasn't," Harry proclaimed, affronted even though it was the truth. "I'm hungry."

"Perhaps you should give him a snack," Monica offered sweetly, and four pairs of astonished eyes swung to hers. This woman obviously _did not_ know how things worked in this household!

"Hmm?" she prompted.

"Um," Petunia mumbled.

Well?"

"Um, boy, er... you can... have an apple," the pristine woman said, face contorted as if each word were a stab to her heart... or more precisely, her pride.

Harry couldn't believe it. In fact, he didn't. He knew perfectly well that once Monica left, there would be hell to pay and it would all be taken out on him. Vernon seemed just daring Harry to take an apple and he would not be able to sit (or stand for that matter) for months.

"I, um, I'm not hungry. I'll just... go back upstairs."

Harry whirled around and ran back up to his room, without looking back or even breathing until he had reached his safe haven.

That is, until he realized his wand was missing; no longer hidden in his sleeve.

* * *

A/N: Heh heh, little cliffhanger there! I'll bet you guys can guess a little of what will happen next... 

Anyways, review, because the more who do, the faster I update!

Yours,

**AngelMoon Girl**


	4. Magic Misinterpreted

Disclaimer: Same as usual. I own only this story.

A/N: What great reivews! Good job to everyone who stepped up to the plate and delivered such fantastic feedback! This is for: **Digi Bonds, Sakurako Minase, buffalo1fromSalem, Gwinna, Ariana, mae-E, Kate, Prd2bAmerican18, **and** Mara Weaves. **Hope to hear from you all again :-D

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 4: "Magic Misinterpreted"

* * *

"Oh damn," Harry swore, shaking out his sleeve and shirt to be extra sure. 

Yes, it was gone.

His wand, his protection, was gone.

"It must have fallen out downstairs," the Boy-Who-Lived muttered to himself as cold dread filled him to the core. If Monica or the Dursleys were to find it-

His worst fears were suddenly answered as a shriek of "BOY!" sounded from downstairs, terrified and furious all at once.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Harry cried, raking a shaking hand through his shaggy locks before rushing down the stairs with the speed of a freight train. He skidded to a halt as a terrified and shaking Petunia Dursley pointed at his wand, lying right in the hands of Monica. Vernon seemed unable to form the right words as he mouthed like a fish, while Dudley seemed to be hiding behind the bulky whale that was his father.

Monica smiled pleasantly and held it out to speechless Harry, who was giving her a suspicious look.

"Here. You dropped your stick."

There was a nervous, collective swallow from every occupant of the room.

"T-thanks," Harry responded, taking the wand and half expecting it to bite or jinx him. He still didn't believe Monica was innocent yet. If she truely didn't know what a wand was, then she really was the Muggle she seemed to be, _and_ she was giving it back, which proved good.

Then again, what if she'd cursed it?

Harry looked down at his precious wand and looked it over suspiciously. Nothing _looked_ wrong with it, but he wasn't one to assume. He didn't see the weird look Monica gave him as he examined the object.

"I think you should go back upstairs, boy," Vernon grunted, eyes flashing as he finally regained speech. "And I don't want you _ever_ leaving that... that... _thing _out again!"

A very nonplussed Monica looked from Vernon to Harry and back again. Why so much fuss over a stick?

Then again, why did Harry carry around _sticks_?

She was so confused! Tess had said mystery shrouded the boy and the family held a deep secret, but this was just plain odd!

Obediently, the Boy-Who-Lived trotted back up to his room, and the tutoring continued as if nothing had ever happened.

Hedwig hooted at her master from in her cage. Harry gave her a smile, setting his wand under the floorboard to be hidden from the snooping Dursleys who would love to confiscate anything magical.

"Hey girl, I'm going to need you to send out a letter for me," Harry told the snowy hued pet, pulling out a pen and piece of paper. Sitting down at his desk in front of Hedwig's cage, he started on the note to Headquarters. Three days had passed, and as the Order had asked, he was writing the daily note saying he was okay and not dead or anything.

_Dursleys fine. I am too. Dudley has a tutor named Monica who's going to come to the house everyday; she seems alright. She did, however, find my wand, but thought it was a stick. I don't_ think _it was jinxed, but I can't tell. Other than this new arrival, everything's been normal._

_Harry_

Harry looked over what he'd written, purposely trying to keep it as vague as possible in case it fell into the wrong hands. It far surpassed his normal 'I'm fine, Dursleys have been too' scribble, but he felt the Order should know about Monica. After all, if she was a Death Eater in disguise, they should be let known for his own sake.

"Hedwig?"

She perked up at her name, and held out her leg expectantly.

Harry sealed up the letter and tied it to her leg. He stroked her feathers down atop the female owl's head.

"Come back as soon as you can. I'm lonely here," Harry chuckled sadly, pitying his own summer solitude. Hedwig became the only one he could talk to, even if she wasn't able to reply.

Hedwig hooted, then took off into the early afternoon sky. Harry sighed, not moving from his window perch as he looked out over the sunny grounds. Normally, he'd be out doing chores in the nice weather, but with Monica's arrival it seemed the Dursleys had forgotten.

Oh well. Perhaps it was for the better, but he really needed the work to keep his mind off... _things_.

Unbeknownest to the seeker heart-throb, Monica watched from the kitchen window Hedwig flying away, the letter tied to her leg.

_What on earth?_ the angel wondered, pausing from her helping with Dudley to watch the bird until it was gone. _Why is there an owl out in the day?_

She looked to Dudley, who was biting his protruding tongue and scribbling down his work. He noticed his tutor gazing at him with a question on her lips.

"Yes?"

"Do you... normally see owls in the day here?"

Dudley froze, emotions flickering across his face like wildfire. The prominent one she noticed was suspicion and guarding.

What was it with suspicion in this family?

"No," the boy slowly answered, looking down at his paper with a vaguely trembling hand.

"Are you sure?" Monica prodded.

"Yes," he answered in the same, slow, masked monotone.

"Okay," she sighed, knowing he was lying. However, the angel was not one to push and therefore let the matter drop. Perhaps she'd asked Mr. Dursley later.

_Wait, scratch that_, Monica thought, smiling. Mrs. Dursley seemed much nicer, and more willing to listen to her, even if she was just as emotionlessly guarded.

oOo

"Vernon!" Petunia cried shrilly from the window, peeking out of the curtains. She was the typical "nosy neighbor" who knew everything and all piece of gossip from the neighborhood.

"Yes, dear?" her husband inquired, coming up behind her to look out.

"Look at that! Someone's finally moving into the house next door!"

"By golly, you're right!"

Dudley sauntered out of the pristine kitchen, Monica on his tail. "Who is it, Mum?"

"An older woman," Aunt Petunia answered, eyes narrowed as she scoured out every detail with her beady eyes. "Grey hair, put up in curls... nice style."

_Tess_, Monica thought grinning.

"I'm going to make a casserole so we can introduce ourselves!" Petunia cried, rushing into the kitchen with a mission. The curtain fell back down into place and Monica resisted the urge to rush out to her friend and tell her everything that had happened in this strange house as of yet.

* * *

A/N: Please review when done! It will motivate me so much! 

**AngelMoon Girl**


	5. Conversations With Tess

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Touched By An Angel. Merely borrowing the characters for this story.

A/N: Loved the reviews everyone, and sorry for the long wait! Been really busy! Forgive me for the shortness of this chapter, but I simply had to get out more and couldn't bear making everyone wait so much. Thank you to **Prd2bAmerican18, Sakurako Minase, Gwinna, mae-E, Kate, King of Wolves, tina7610813, blind-phoenix, carolquin, MaraWeaves, Crazy Physco, Criminally Insane Hermit, **and** maraudersbanana.**

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 5: "Conversations With Tess"

* * *

"Vernon? Vernon? Does my hair look alright?" Aunt Petunia asked frantically, fiddling with the strands as she observed her reflection in her pocket mirror. 

"Yes, dear," her husband sighed, not even looking over. He rung the door bell twice, taking care to glance behind him where Monica, Harry, and Dudley stood, giving them all a look-over for neatness. As his eyes roved over Harry, they narrowed into hate. Harry just grinned back cheekily. Normally, he would've been locked in his room, but with Monica here they had to treat him civilly. The Boy-Who-Lived was beginning to enjoy the tutor in their home, Death Eater or not- she at least got the Dursleys to treat him like he really was their nephew, whether directly or indirectly, he wasn't sure.

The door opened to reveal sweet-faced Tess, a warm smile inviting them to her abode. "Well hello! Who might you be?"

"We're your next door neighbors. Welcome to the neighborhood!" Petunia near pushed down Vernon to shake Tess' hand.

"Ah, so you're the 'Peeping Tom' I saw! I'm Tess, nice to meet you too."

Petunia blushed an interesting shade of pink, sniffing, "Oh, yes, I was merely observing your... ah... wonderful choice of hairstyle..."

Tess beamed, primping her white and gray curls up a bit. "Oh, you like it too? Isn't it just heavenly?" Monica stifled a chuckle, watching as Tess wooed over the Dursleys with her natural charm. Her friend certainly had a way with people! And stubborness, too...

"Would you like to come in?" the older angel inquired politely. "I always love company."

"Yes, of course! We, ah, actually brought over a casserole," Petunia said, holding up the said dish and smiling down upon it proudly. "The best you'll ever taste, if I may say so myself."

Harry snorted under his breath, but no one heard him. Tess gave a returning smile, but it was lacking and a little humorous. "The best, hmm? I think you'll find I am quite the food connoisseur, dear, but let's have a taste. Come in, come in."

As Monica passed her friend, they shared a secret smile. Things were going well.

oOo

Vernon settled back in the high-backed wooden chair genially, or as genially as Harry had ever seen him. But of course, he was merely trying to make an impression for this new neighbor. "Tess, you're going to have to spruce up this house a little. Any ideas?"

"Ooh! I have some!" Aunt Petunia automatically offered, breaking into conversation with Tess about all the decorating ideas she had. Harry slouched in his seat around the table, utterly bored as he listened to the dull discussion about gardens and flamingoes and any other spewings from his aunt. Of course, everyone was ignoring him as usual and now he wished he'd stayed home. Although... Monica seemed to be glancing over at him ever so often. It was getting a little annoying, and once again Harry pondered over the possibility of her working for Voldemort. He was beginning to doubt this theory, but nevertheless until he got to know Dudley's new tutor better, he'd just have to wait and be cautious.

"Anyone want anymore casserole?" Monica asked, looking around. Everyone declined.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up, having not been listening. "What?"

"Do you want anymore casserole?" Monica repeated, sorely wishing he would accept. That poor child looked much too skinny and this was a wonderful opportunity knocking.

"No," Harry said. "But thank you."

Monica inwardly sighed. Very soon, she needed to find a way to get close to this withdrawn boy. He was so reclusive and talking with him was almost impossible with his relatives always around, discouraging any fraternization with the ebony-haired boy. Perhaps tonight she could discuss the possibilities with Tess.

oOo

The end of the day arrived quickly. Having left Tess', the group had trooped back over to the Dursleys' house, Monica had finished tutoring Dudley and had been unsuccessful with confronting Harry. The boy spent most of the following hours doing random chores for the Dursleys, from cleaning the already sparkling car, to cooking, to gardening once more- it seemed he was always busy. When at last her time there ended, he was still outside, now watering the meticulous roses.

Monica stopped on her way down the walkway. Harry obviously knew she was there; she could see the way his muscles tightened as she halted, but he didn't say anything or turn around.

"Harry?" she called out softly.

"Yes?" he responded gruffly, glancing up at her with guarded features.

"It..." She noticed the way his eyes displayed his obvious distrust, and the way his body was stiff and almost... ready. So, she decided not to go down that road... yet. "It was a pleasure meeting you. See you tomorrow."

Harry seemed to release a breath he'd been holding in, visibly relaxing. His hands loosened around the hose and they didn't seem to twitch to much towards his sleeve.

"You too," he replied in a grateful tone. She had finally given him an almost civil day with the Dursleys... he just dreaded how they'd treat him once she was gone.

"Goodbye."

"Bye."

And Monica turned, only giving that mysterious, yet intriguing boy one last look before exitting number four and starting down the road.

_Until tonight, Harry..._

* * *

A/N: The more who review, the faster I update. Next chapter, Monica talks with Tess and they watch over Harry, only to see some very mysterious things happening... 

Find out what in: "Intruder at Midnight" (if that isn't a big hint, I don't know what is!).

**AngelMoon Girl**


	6. Intruder at Midnight

Disclaimer: If I really owned Harry Potter and Touched By An Angel, I'd buy off all the characters and make this into a movie! But is life so kind?

A/N: Thank you all for the great reviews and I can't wait to receive the ones for this chapter! Unfortunately I will be gone from July 18th to the 27th so will be unable to reply to any reviews or update until sometime after. But I hope everyone enjoys Deathly Hallows and Order of the Phoenix! I know I will, and as to the latter, it was _awesome_ and my favorite movie yet!

Thank you to **Vellouette, sweetgirl23, Sakurako Minase, carolquin, Belladonna16, maraudersbanana, tina7610813, mae-E, Prd2bamerican18, King of Wolves, Gwinna, Kate, MaraWeaves, Joyce,** and **Crazy-Physco.**

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 6: "Intruder at Midnight"

* * *

The cool night air sighed a whispering breath upon Privet Drive, kissing the trees goodnight as they whistled softly, leaves crackling and tugging at their bonds. The creatures of the night hooted and howled out in the distance. Everything was peaceful; the silence couldn't even be split with a knife, it was so absolute and overpowering. Monica was afraid to even whisper and break this spell midnight cast over the world, but she did so in order to answer Tess' question. 

"Oh Tess, so much has happened that it just hurts my brain to ponder over it! I mean, just the secretive way this family acts is suspicious enough... not to mention the affinity Harry has with a stick and how I saw an owl flying by in pure daylight. Their life... is just so confusing! What are they hiding? Do you know, Tess?"

The woman listening to her turned, grey curls shining under the moonlight and appearing almost silver and ethereal.

"I know... something. Not the whole story, just... something..."

"Well what is it?" Monica implored impatiently, turning pleading brown eyes on her superviser. "If it's about all these odd things happening-"

"It is," Tess interrupted, inclining her styled head. "And however much I wish I could disclose it to you, I cannot. It is your information to be discovered."

"Tess," Monica begged, pouting. "We share everything!"

"Not if it isn't the Father's will! Monica, if I were to tell you now, it would ruin everything you are working up to! It could destroy the fragile bond you are building up with Harry, if you knew!"

Monica pursed her lips and settled back against the roof of Tess' new house, letting the matter drop. But the theories ran amuck in her head as she schemed up possible ideas. None of them seemed to fit. A secret- information- that could pull her away from Harry? That would threaten her relationship with him; the way she viewed him? What on earth could cause that?

Her reverie was broken by Tess' voice, tense and dubious all at once. "Monica!"

She pointed down into the road, lit by the artificial glow of streetlamps, where a cloaked figure was making its way down the pristine pavement. Its face was hooded; shrouded in shadow. Monica gulped and wondered who would be wandering the streets at this time. She glanced over to Number Four, and into Harry's room through the open window. He had been who they'd been watching over, for anything suspicious, and it seemed that their labor was becoming fruitful, but not in the way they'd been thinking...

The chestnut haired angel observed the stealthy spector of a figure stop right outside Number Four and gaze directly into Harry's room. She bit her lip and felt fear grip her slightly. She didn't know why; maybe it was the thought of hooded persons keeping watch over children, but it frightened her. Monica felt Tess' warm hand enclose around her own and drew strength from that. She gave Tess a smile and looked back at the road.

The figure was gone.

Monica's mouth fell open in surprise. Had she imagined it? She stole a look at Tess, who appeared just as nonplussed. No, she hadn't.

But what-?

Monica looked in at Harry for reassurance to see if he was alright and let out a startled cry.

The person was _in his room_! It drew back its hood and revealed the face of a haggard man, gentle wrinkles chiseling the face of a man in his early to late thirties. The countenance was framed by straggly brown hair and warm chocolate eyes that looked lovingly down at Harry. Monica suddenly realized he was no threat, but that didn't explain how he had gone from the road to Harry's bedroom in a matter of seconds.

"Tess?" she inquired, but Tess shook her head.

"Not now. Just watch," she murmured.

The tired looking man moved slowly and quietly to Harry's bedside table where the stick rested. Confused, Monica watched as he ran his hands over it, muttering but she had no clue what he was saying from this distance. After a few moments of this, he set the stick back onto the table and looked down at Harry. A smile creased his cheeks and after a gently placed kiss on Harry's forehead, disappeared with a _pop!_

Wait, _disappeared_!? Monica rubbed her eyes and looked again. Yes, he was gone. Just... gone. Into midair.

"Tess," she whimpered, turning to said woman. "What. Is. Going. On."

"Ah, now that, baby, is your assignment," Tess grinned. "I'd be cheating if I said anything."

Monica huffed irritably but there was a good-natured gleam in her eyes. As she opened her mouth to come up with a suitable comeback, a terrified scream cut through the air and succeeded in breaking the drowsy silence of midnight.

And it was coming from Harry's bedroom.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to review! 

**AngelMoon Girl**


	7. Divine Interference

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Touched By an Angel.

A/N: Whew, I know, I know, it's been a while! But I'm back! A great big thank you hug to my reviewers: **Vellouette, Mimaindi, Crazy-Physco, Sakurako Minase, Frau, ilovethestorys, carolquin, mae-E, King Of Wolves, Jack Potter, FOXANBU, storm tigeress, orderofphoniex, Maloran, Shizuku Tsukishima749, **and** Firgof Raina.**

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 7: "Divine Interference"

* * *

The blood-curling scream shook Monica to the core. She forgot completely the unimportant rebuttal her mouth had been forming; it froze in its open position and refused to close. The brown-haired angel turned to Tess, hazel orbs forecasting fear and worry. Tess just shook her head, lips pursed, and together they teleported into Harry's bedroom.

A shocking sight met the celestial creatures as they gazed down with horror at their charge. Harry was sweating profusely, body tangled in the covers as he jerked and twisted. Caught in the throes of what had to be a terrifying nightmare, Tess and Monica felt helpless as they were forced to watch but not interfere.

"Tess... what's wrong with his scar? It looks so harsh against his skin... it's raw!" Monica gasped, fingering for Tess' hand. Tess squeezed back reassuringly, but her voice belied the calm her exterior portrayed.

"I don't know, baby girl. I really don't know," Tess murmured. "I'd say it's only darker because of his palor but it looks so recent! As if he'd just gotten the cut!"

"There are so many strange things surrounding that boy!" Monica commented, but her attention was quickly averted as Harry's door was flung open. She winced, startled. It ricocheted off the wall with a piercing bang, but Harry was unaroused. He only continued moaning and jerking. It was with a renewed sense of horror that Monica observed Vernon Dursley storming into the room, fire riding on his tail and pure, unadulterated fury burning on his countenance.

"Sirius... no, Sirius, come back! SIRIUS! NO!" Harry shouted, tone rising and pitched sorrow growing in his plead. It tore Monica's heart up to hear such pain usually unseen in a mere child. Who was Sirius, she wondered? A friend? A family member? The angel stored this new piece of the puzzle away in her brain for later examination. Her mind was still focused on her assignment and his towering uncle.

"BOY!" Vernon shouted! "**BOY**!"

This time, Harry did wake up. He shot up, gasping and groggy with emerald eyes darting around the room. His hand twitched for the bedside table where his stick lay, but Vernon crossed the room in what seemed two steps. The beefy man grabbed Harry's arm before Harry could grasp his piece of wood. This in itself befuddled Monica, but again, she ignored the pondering. All she could think about was how hard Vernon must be holding Harry's arm and how she mustn't interfere, she _must not_ interfere... it violated human free will...

"Oh no you don't, boy! You're not using any _funny_ tricks on me! You'll be expelled if you do!"

"Ex-pr-elled?" Harry repeated sluggishly, still half-asleep. He groaned. "Ow, my arm..."

"I'll give you more than 'ow', boy!" Vernon yelled, flecks of spit flying into the dazed teen's face. He shook Harry's arm threateningly, squeezing...

_Must not interfere, must not interfere..._

"Ow..." Harry moaned softly again.

_Must not interfere, must not interfere... free will, free will, Monica!_

"Let's-see-if-you-decide-to-wake-us-up-again-hmm?" Vernon growled, punctuating each word with a slap to Harry's head. The fifteen year old wailed pitifully, blinking rapidly as he struggled for total consciousness.

_Mustn't... interfere..._

"After all Petunia and I've done for you; after all the trouble you've caused! And now this! Every fricking night!"

_Must..._

"Worthless! Stupid! Abnormal! Freak! A freak who can't even sleep without having a nightmare! Without screaming like a _little baby_!"

_Not..._

"Shut up," Harry muttered. "Shut up."

"I'll make _you_ shut up, Potter!" Vernon raised his hand, releasing Harry who tried to sink against the headboard, probably wishing he could disappear into it, completely helpless...

_INTERFERE!_

Vernon swung his arm down to punch Harry. Or he thought he did. But the boy was still staring, wide-eyed at the arm that hadn't moved. Vernon tried again. And again. His arm... was frozen!

"B-boy... what are you doing? Stop it! Stop it now!"

"I'm...not doing anything," Harry whispered, barely audible, as he continued to stare at the god-sent mystery. Could his magic be doing this subconsciously? Even if he wasn't trying to? It had happened before...

"STOP IT!" Vernon exclaimed, trying to bring down his arm and failing for the umpteenth time.

"Monica," Tess said from the aforesaid angel's side reproachfully. But there wasn't enough reproach in her tone to be scolding. In fact, relief graced the outer edges of her voice. "What happened to free will?"

"I couldn't let him hurt Harry, Tess. I couldn't!" Monica said, watching as Vernon turned and fled from the room in fear, at last able to control his appendage. She glowered at the door that was slammed shut and locked, frowning. "Perhaps that will teach him a lesson!"

Tess gave her a sad look. "I know you were trying to help, but you've only made things worse for Harry, sweetheart."

"_What_? How could that be worse for Harry!" Monica gave the boy a surprised glance, observing as he slouched back under the covers, appraising his form. He looked rather worse for wear. "It's not as though Vernon Dursley can possibly think that was Harry's fault, can he!?"

Tess didn't answer at first. She just wrapped her arm around Monica and pulled her friend in close.

"Oh yes, they can, angel girl. Yes they can."

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The more who update, the faster I'll try to update! And remember, "God loves you"!

**AngelMoon Girl**


	8. Forging Friendship

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Touched By an Angel.

A/N: A gracious thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! **hpswst101, munchnzoey, blind-phoenix, King of Wolves, Severus-is-my-man5690, ilovethestories, mae-E, reader, Renks, snow fox2000, Allanasha ke kiri, LittleGloriaFaith, Guardian Dimension, **and** Shizuku Tsukishima749.**

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 8: "Forging Friendship"

* * *

Harry opened his eyes, disoriented and sore for some reason; as if he'd just lifted weights without proper stretching or previous experience. He sat up, flexing his arm from whence the pain stemmed.

Ow.

Harry hissed out a breath, in one full swipe dragging up the sleeve of his nightshirt and gasping. Purple bruises discolored his skin, in the unmistakable shape of a hand. And Harry was well-aquainted with whose it was. But when had Uncle Vernon-?

Harry scoured through the miasma that was his mind, ruffling around in the memories until at last he remembered faintly the events of the previous night. Gradually, the pieces of the puzzle connected and he could recall more cogently what had happened.

He'd had another nightmare, of Sirius and the veil, before being roughly awoken by Vernon, who'd tried to beat the "freakishness" out of him, as per usual. That much he knew was truth, but here was the part where his brain went murky. For some reason, Harry saw the image of Vernon with a frozen arm, trying and failing to bring it down upon his nephew. Was it magic... or...?

_But if I'd used accidental magic, wouldn't the Ministry be trying to break down the door right about now, jumping at the chance to expell me?_

Harry rubbed his temple, groaning. It was probably his imagination. No doubt lack of sleep was getting to him and the memory was merely the spector of a waking dream. If he'd have used magic, he'd know it.

The boy rolled over, eying the window and surmising it was around dawn. The trilling of birds sounded faintly into Harry's little room as soft rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. The serenity of early summer lulled the troubled teen into a much-needed slumber once more.

oOo

Harry yawned, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes as he stretched satisfyingly. The day had snuck up on him; it seemed mere seconds ago that he'd been contemplating his arm, but there was no mistaking it- hours had passed in his unconscious state. Happily, no nightmares or visions of murder had plagued him since closing his lids last. A small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless!

The world outside his window was blindingly bright, and stifflingly hot. Gulls hung below the jewel sun with wind upon their wings, and the calls of children rose up in a near din. Harry knew he had slept in far too long; the clock blared his lack of punctuality with the numbers **11:36**. Harry didn't care though; today, for some reason, his heart felt elated. Perhaps it was the weather, but the Boy-Who-Lived knew this day was going to bring something wonderful.

He bounded from the bed and threw on some of Dudley's old clothes, then went for the doorknob. It took a few jiggles for Harry to realize that he was locked in.

"What the-? UNCLE VERNON! UNCLE VERNON!" Harry shouted, pounding on the wood and ramming his weight against the obstacle. "Hey! Uncle Vernon, open the-!"

Harry suddenly felt himself falling through air, but the feeling was brief. His body connected with a much larger one a second later and the teen realized with a thrill of fear that he was currently in the arms of one furious Vernon Dursley. He quickly stumbled back and put himself farther than an arm's length away, should the man try anything. He wasn't half-asleep this time!

"What the _devil_ are you doing, making all that racket! We have _company_, you know!" the rotund Dursley hissed in a half-growl, half-strangled choke. His face had gone a dangerous purple and Harry dearly wished he'd drop dead of heart attack or some other ailment, right there... that color surely couldn't be healthy on any normal person!

"Gee, I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon. Maybe if I'd been given the option of finding that out myself, rather than being caged in my room like an animal, things would've gone differently," Harry returned sarcastically through clenched teeth, always the voice of rectitude. Keeping his temper in check was perhaps the hardest battle the wizard had to fight during the summer.

"Now don't you take that tone with me, boy. You're lucky your Aunt and I give you a room to _sleep_ in!" Vernon wagged a condescending finger for effect, but Harry wasn't amused. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, because a room is much better than a cupboard."

This time Vernon did advance, and Harry felt his fleeing feet take a few steps backward.

"_You listen here, boy_-"

"Mr. Dursley! Oh Mr. Dursley!" a voice called up the stairs, the Irish lilt unmistakable. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Vernon left his bedroom, composing himself with each retreating footfall. When he replied, it was in a carefully controlled tone.

"Yes, Monica?"

"Would Harry like some brunch as well?"

There was silence as Harry strained his ears in eavesdropping.

"Well?"

"Er... yes, H-Harry'd love some," Vernon spat out at last, swirling on his foot and storming back into the room. Harry, surprised, scuttled over to his nightstand for his wand but his uncle was quicker. He grabbed Harry's already bruised arm in a vice-like grip and shoved his face into Harry's.

"No funny business. Hear me? And not a word about last night, either."

"Last night? So it really-"

"Not. A. Word!"

Harry wisely clamped his mouth shut and nodded. Vernon released him, then strutted from the room with a dignified air. Harry trotted down into the kitchen in his wake, albeit keeping a safe distance. Monica was standing at the stove, grilling bacon and wearing one of Petunia's starch-white aprons. Harry froze dead, cocking an eyebrow in askance.

"You made us... breakfast?" he said slowly, as if the concept was hard to understand. Monica laughed.

"No, silly! I made _brunch_!"

"But- but- you're just the tutor!" Harry spluttered, wondering how the heck Monica had gotten the Dursleys to agree to this... or whether they had condoned it at all. The auburn-haired woman seemed to have a way with persuasion; perhaps the Dursleys thought it'd earn them bonus points by giving in.

"I'm many things," Monica answered omnisciently, the words holding far greater connotation than Harry could ever have imagined.

"Er... okay," the boy replied dismissively, plopping himself ungracefully into a chair at the table with the epitome of adolescent awkwardness. He grinned inwardly; at least it would be a break from breakfast duty! Things were beginning to look up with Monica around, and the emerald eyed wizard was starting to trust her more and more. It just seemed such a far-fetched idea now that this sweet and caring woman could be an evil minion of Voldemort! Harry even felt like laughing at the mere thought.

Breakfast was all-in-all a humdrum yet pleasant affair, with the occasional discomfitted silence that Vernon filled with throat clearing and Petunia exhausted with her gratingly random chatter. Then, of course, there was Vernon's complimenting of Monica's cooking while still managing to be uxorious with his wife. Harry, meanwhile, played the "I don't exist" game, keeping as quiet and small as possible for fear Vernon might become provoked after his morning threat. But there were a few times that he responded, when Monica asked gently soliticious questions like "How was school going at St. Brutus" and what he was learning. Quick on his feet, Harry ignored the piercing stares his relatives were pinning him with and raved about muggle subjects that he really only knew about from elementary school. But the tutor was never fazed; she appeared taken in by Harry's ersatz tales and believed the lie. Harry was grateful when the meal finally ended and he could retreat back up to his sanctuary. It was taxing to be constantly on the alert and continuously spinning a facade of his life. He envied the magical folk who took for granted the simple joy of living in truth. If only the Potters had never been murdered; if only Sirius could have become his legal guardian...

Harry sank onto the mattress, pushing away the dark blanket of depression fighting to envelop him. Distraction came in the form of his snowy owl Hedwig tapping at the window. Harry dashed over to the sill and wrenched open the window. The bird swooped in, dropping a letter into Harry's open palm as she flew. She settled onto her usual perch before balefully eying Harry with an expectant air. Harry chuckled, tearing into the envelop to retrieve the parchment within. He recognized Remus Lupin's handwriting immediately.

_Harry,_

_I apologize for the brevity of this letter but Order business is demanding and I haven't much time. Last night I payed you a visit to check your wand (Again, I apologize for the lack of prior notification. I would like to have talked with you but was on a tight schedule). The diagnosis is heartening; there are no detectable traces of magic on it other than yours and no jinxes engrained in the wood. I believe you will be fine._

_As for this mysterious tutor, always be on your guard. Headquarters has no information on her, so go with your gut feeling and_ do not _trust valuable information into a possible enemy's hand. It's not impossible for Voldemort to find a way to penetrate the wards. _

_I hope summer has treated you well. Contact the Order immediately if you think anything is amiss and continue corresponding every three days._

It was hastily signed,

_Moony_

Harry sighed, wondering if Remus was having a hard time coping with Sirius' death as well. The letter was vaguely impersonal, and there was no mention of Sirius or the events at the Ministry. The teen surmised the werewolf's pain, like his own, ran deep. Harry knew all too well what a struggle it was to keep the sorrow harbored and raw emotions at bay. He guessed Moony was probably trying to come across as fine in the note, but Harry knew the truth. The man probably wasn't ready to discuss Sirius yet, and Harry was alright with that. He wasn't sure he was either.

Folding the paper in half, Harry stuck the precious connection to his world under the floorboard and returned to daydreaming on the bed.

oOo

The afternoon passed swiftly. Harry dawdled the time away with homework (Hermione would be proud!) and abritrary chores the Dursleys burdened him with- inconsequential little things like pruning the already perfect flowerbeds, washing Vernon's sparkling car, and window-wiping. Petunia had been going to make him scrub the floor as well, but one look at Monica and the horsey woman got reservations. She had turned to Harry with the strangest expression on her face, saying,

"Never mind. You've- er- done all the chores I want you to do. Go on now, get some fresh air before dinner."

Harry had gawked. Coming from Petunia, the request had been almost like an "I love you", such was the rarity! But he still saw the forced niceness of her statement, and knew very well it was a show for Monica. The words "Nice" and "Aunt Petunia" didn't belong in the same sentence.

With no real destination in mind, Harry had set off down Privet Drive, lost in reverie as he let his feet guide him. The teen barely registered turning onto Wisteria Walk, but he finally regained consciousness upon reaching the children's playground. He ground his teeth into his lip, thinking, before slowly moving over to the swings and sliding into one.

A lethargic listlessness overcame the fifteen year old as he rocked, trainers brushing gravel. Dark doubts poked at his conscience. What was there left to live for, now that Sirius was gone? How could a prophecy made before his birth dictate his life? Why couldn't it have been Neville? Why him? Why... _why_ did all these terrible things befall _him_? What had he ever done to the world to deserve this?

Harry reached down and filled his hands with the tiny, sharp rocks, cupping and uncupping his palms, letting the dirt trickle away... fascinated by the simple miracle of life and nature, yet furious at the cruelty humanity committed; cruelty that stemmed from greed, hate... hate that gave birth to murder, violence... greed that fed on people like Tom Riddle, and a hate that morphed him into the snakelike Lord Voldemort...

"What're you doing?" an innocently inquiring voice asked from above, and Harry jumped. He dropped the fistful of gravel and sat back to look up at Monica. She was donned in a summer jacket and sported a briefcase. She must have just left the Dursleys. Harry glanced behind her at the sky, internally shocked at how deep the sun was setting. Luscious crimson and gold were smeared across the heavens, like some painting from God. Harry felt a bout of homesickness punch him in the gut as he was reminded of Gryffindor Tower. "Mind if I join?"

"No, go ahead," Harry said, watching as she set down her work and sunk onto the swing beside the young wizard. She took a few pumps and soon was soaring. Harry smiled. How comical she looked; a grown woman, swinging like a little kid!

"I like to swing. It's very relaxing!" Monica laughed, noticing his appraisal and shaking out her hair before skidding her movement to a halt. A giddy color flooded the angel's cheeks, and she giggled to the heavens. "Don't stare! Join me and forget the world!"

Harry just stared.

"You know... be a kid again," Monica said, nudging him. Harry's eyes met the ground and Monica frowned.

"Hmm... you never really got the chance to have a happy childhood, did you, Harry?"

The aforementioned raven head shrugged, but said nothing else. He kept his eyes carefully trained at his feet. He wished Monica weren't so perceptive. And honest. Most people wouldn't be so blunt. Monica was certainly different.

"Yes," Monica commented, almost to herself. "The Dursleys probably weren't the best family to grow up with."

"You can say that again," Harry snorted softly.

Monica's visage turned dolorous as she prepared to delve into what had to be a tragic past. She was finally forging friendship with this boy, little by little, and now it was time to find out more about this mysterious teen.

"Have you always lived with them?"

"As long as I can remember. My parents... died... when I was one," Harry swallowed, again on the defensive with the information he supplied. He wondered why he was telling her anything at all, but this woman just seemed so... approachable and accepting. Trustworthy. "I had a godfather, too, and I was going to live with him, but- he- he died."

"Oh Harry," Monica murmured, her hand darting out immediately to clutch his thin shoulder. Harry smiled wanly at her.

"It's funny. One minute they're there, and the next they're not. You take them for granted, you know? It was so fast and sudden- I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye! It was all my fault," Harry moaned. He began to unconsciously rock on the swing, tugging away from Monica's consoling fingers. He was alone in his guilt. It was the way it should be.

"I don't believe that," Monica answered sharply. "And don't you either. Harry, listen to me. People make choices; we cannot do that for them. I'm sure that no matter what happened, your godfather would never blame you."

Harry was quiet. He slowed down, pendulum motion dissolving into oblivion. Then he said softly, "Maybe." The boy cleared his throat then, seeming to gather composure as he jumped off the seat.

"The Dursleys are probably wondering where I am. It was really nice talking with you, Monica. You're... a very nice person," Harry said in farewell.

"Perhaps we'll chat again soon?" Monica said hopefully. Harry grinned.

"Yah. I'd like that. And... thanks. For listening and all." As if he were embarassed, the boy turned and sprinted from the park, leaving Monica still perched on the swing.

"That went very well, angel girl," Tess' voice praised from beside Monica. The older of the two had suddenly appeared on Harry's previously vacated swing. The aforementioned auburn-head directed an upturn of the lips her supervisor's way.

"It's a gift," the brunette shrugged, feigning airiness. Tess snorted.

"Now don't get all cocky on me, little Miss Wings. Your halo's big enough already!"

"You know Tess, I really think I'm getting through to him. I think I'm starting to understand what you wanted me to discover. He's guilty over his godfather's death and just needs a little push in the right direction!"

"Honey," Tess said, bending over and gracing her friend with a knowingly stern look, "You don't even know the _half _of it."

Monica pursed her lips and huffed. "And you still won't tell me?"

"Nope."

"Hey, you two aren't bickering again, are you?" a masculine voice teased. Monica started, swirling around to come face to face with another angel. The man with golden locks leaned up against the swingset post, arms crossed and a handsomely smooth disposition about him. He laughed.

"Don't rile Tess, Monica. It could get scary."

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" Monica pressed, ignoring his last comment.

"He's on assignment too, baby," Tess explained, touching her companion on the shoulder.

"Harry's not...?" Monica gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Andrew was quick to calm her.

"No. At least, those aren't my duties that I know of. But you know how fast things can change. We just have to watch over Harry and continue to guide him."

"Does Andrew know the secret?" Monica asked Tess, but it was the blonde who responded.

"I know some, yes."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me...?"

"Sorry. Strict instructions that you needed to uncover Harry's mystery on your own."

Monica looked from grinning face to grinning face before scowling. "Load of help you two are."

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A/N: Whew, long chapter! Thanks for reading and the more who review, the faster I update!

Stay tuned: next chapter's called "Handyman of Hearts". Let the speculation begin!

**AngelMoon Girl**


	9. Handyman of Hearts: Part 1

Disclaimer: Nope. But if I owned Harry Potter or Touched By an Angel, I'd surely be in Heaven! Heh heh. Pun intended.

A/N: Thank you all my fantastic reviewers! Sorry it's been so long, but life has a way of flying by... **Severus-is-my-man5690, Allanasha ke kiri, SuperDamage, hpswst101, Maloran, mae-E, Score89, Guardian Dimension, Jack Potter, LittleAngelHorselover, King of Wolves, ilovethestorys, Stahchild, lilio, Impius, Kitty-Stardust, Sapphire Warrioress, Shell,** and **Eclectic Me. **Much thanks and appreciation for your dedication and honesty! I love you all and you keep me going!

I apologize for the fact that this chapter is more of a filler than anything else; I'm really busy getting ready for college and working full time so I haven't the patience to type this all the way through :-( Hence, Part 1. Part 2 to come later and will involve meatier angst and drama. Harry will finally meet Andrew, and he'll be very intrigued at the secrets that Angel of Death-in-disguise holds, and continuously drops!

**The Wizard's Angel**

Part 10: "Handyman of Hearts: Part 1"

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Harry frowned as he dished out Sunday morning breakfast. The churning emotions welling like a dull ache in his abdomen were difficult to decipher; Harry thought he might be lonely, or perhaps simply disappointed...

Silly, really, that his mood depended on whether he saw his cousin's tutor or not. Unfortunately, Dudley's classes took a reprieve on the Seventh Day, which meant no Monica. Harry sighed, needing to remind his fingers to release the tongs holding bacon over Aunt Petunia's plate. She sneered at his careless inattention, but mercifully spared no chiding comments on the fifteen year old. Harry moved on to Uncle Vernon, pensively dipping into retrospective on Monica and his' changing relationship.

The idea that Monica was an agent of Voldemort to be feared and mistrusted was laughable now. After last evening's conversation with her on the swings, Harry had realized how truly he had shut himself away this summer. How he spent more time in depressed reverie than he did with his friends. How each day had passed in blurry fashion, amalgamating with the next and the previous until the Boy-Who-Lived forgot all activities he'd partook in.

Somehow, Monica had undone these unhealthy habits. The auburn-head had snuck past his defenses under that Gryffindor-hued sunset... She'd made him think deeper about the day Sirius died, how maybe the fault lay more prominently in exterior circumstances than in Harry's ill-prepared Ministry excursion. The teen still blamed himself- there was no denying that he'd been stupid- but epiphanies (or plain old good advice) did wonderful things in cleansing the heart of guilt.

Harry suddenly yelped, rubbing his stinging back. From the other side of the table, Dudley smirked. He pulled his Smeltings stick from beneath the table where it'd been lurking in wait, begging for a reason to jab Harry. Vernon looked smug.

"Pay better attention, boy, and then Dudders won't be forced to use the cane," the fat lard of a man reprimanded, and Harry pursed his lips. He refrained from rebutting that most of the time Dudley's pokes stemmed from nothing but sheer boredom and a desire to provoke a fight. The latter, of course, always fell on Harry's shoulders and he was subsequently punished for the err.

_If only Monica were here... then Dudley would be too scared to pull his old tricks on me..._

As it was, life was back to normal for the Dursleys.

It was time for payback after having to be- oh dear God!- actually _nice_ and _civil_ to their most hated nephew the past week.

"Once you've finished lollygagging around, you can dust the wood. Then you'll report back here to wash the breakfast dishes and-"

Harry couldn't help interrupting. "But what about _my_ breakfast!?"

Vernon laid a most evil smile on the ebony-haired teen. "You should have thought about that _before_ you shirked serving duties, huh?"

Harry went sullen and distant. He only half-listened to the pile of chores his Aunt and Uncle tacked off next. It seemed he'd be going to bed tonight with some very sore muscles...

oOo

With a wrothfully growling stomach, Harry began stacking dirty plates up in one arm. It was only with a lot of practice that he performed this feat in little fear that the dishes would come clattering down to the floor. Of course, Dudley being gone for the day at Piers' house helped ease some of that worry. Harry had learned long ago not to flaunt his superior balancing skills in front of the blonde whale. Accidentally-on-purpose bumps generally led to shattered china and a searing agony on one's rear for weeks afterward. _Not_ a pleasant experience an individual ever wanted to relive.

Teetering only slightly, Harry cautiously slipped away into the kitchen and gently slid the victual receptacles into the sink. He twisted the faucet all the way to hot, waiting for the water to pool...

And swore.

"Oh damn... Aunt Petunia! AUNT PETUNIA! The sink's leaking again!" Harry hollered, listening to the footsteps pounding up stairs from out of the basement's bowels. Petunia came rushing in, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing in irritation. Her arm still had a dirty sheet draped over it; the horsey woman flung it aside onto the table. Laundry would have to wait... For once, Petunia's verbal daggers weren't directed the wizard's way, and he was thankfully not tongue-lashed as the cause of the ailing plumbing.

"Out of the way," the pristine virago hissed harshly, shoving Harry from the scene of the crime. _Oh, precious precious white floor! Being spoiled by tainted dishwater_! Petunia crouched down to peer beneath the cabinets from whence the leakage originated, issuing a few colorful swears that Harry wasn't sure were even real. Suffice to say he was not as panicked as his Aunt... Trainers squeaking as Harry backed up to give his furious relative some yelling space (and in case she decided to use her favorite frying pan to take out her frustrations), the teen suggested,

"You should call a handyman to come and fix the pipes. This is the third time in a row."

"_Really_!?" Petunia shot in response, sarcasm oozing from her tone in thick amounts. "I had _nooo_ idea. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!"

"Fine," Harry said, non-committal and trying to disguise his happiness for a more neutral emotion. _There_ was the excuse he was looking for to leave the kitchen! Swishing on his feet and nearly fleeing, Harry let out a whooshing breath when he escaped into the hallway. Hopefully he could use this one less chore to his advantage; hastily focus in on and finish the others so he could study up for next year. And if she was _really_ distracted, perchance Aunt Petunia would just mop up the viscous mess herself...? _Nah, that was probably asking for too much_, Harry half-chuckled in irony.

oOo

Uncle Vernon called for a plumber after his return from golf, receiving a promise from _Surrey Suckers_ that they would send one of their associates over soon. Harry knew this because he'd been eavesdropping at the window while he watered the rose bushes, wasting time before he had to haul out the mower. The handyman they'd referred to arrived about an hour later around 2:30, when Harry was eagerly gulping down lunch- or in his case, the first meal of the day- in the living room (in respect for Petunia's wishes, her precious kitchen was roped off until the sink was fixed). He was so hungry that cold breakfast leftovers- bacon, eggs, and a buttered muffin that smelled suspiciously stale- sounded like food fit for a king.

The sound of Uncle Vernon greeting a plumber with a deep, handsome voice in the hallway drifted into the living room. Aunt Petunia, currently fanning herself and reading a Vanity Fair magazine, looked up and in one glance sized up Harry's appearance. She grimaced at his sweaty countenance, disheveled t-shirt and mud-stained jeans, then pointed toward the ceiling. Harry didn't miss the message, and immediately stuffed the last of his lunch into an already bursting mouth. Petunia's glare darkened as she watched his antics, so before she could tear into him for gluttony, the Boy-Who-Lived raced upstairs. He barely registered the sandy-headed handyman's curious gaze and Uncle Vernon's countering ornery one before finding himself safe under Hedwig's appraising eyes.

"You must be aching to fly," Harry commented, noticing how cramped his snowy owl looked. She chirped at him, rather annoyingly as if retorting _No, really_? He smiled at her and opened the cage then his window so she could go stretch her wings. "Sorry I didn't come sooner. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia decided today was going to make up for my lack of chores this past week. What I wouldn't do to have Monica here..."

Hedwig seemed to stick around long enough to listen to Harry's lamentations, then with an affectionate nip soared out into the warm afternoon. Harry watched her wistfully. He would've traded his Firebolt just to have an animalistic freedom like that... maybe to be an animagus equipped with wings, so he could escape life for a little while unnoticed...

The fifteen year old shuffled over to his pet's cage, busying himself with tidying it up and shaking the droppings into the wastebin. Hmm, she'd need some fresh water... and he was running low on owl treats. A letter to Ron would be in order to get some supplies... Pig probably had a large stock, right? Well, _something_ had to fuel that endless energy!

Harry became aware of a foul smell radiating from some point in propinquity to him. He gave a very teenage-boy-like chuckle when realizing that the malodor was wafting from _him_. A nice cold shower was in order to refresh himself, then a change of clothes. And after that...?

Harry grinned grimly. Well, Aunt Petunia never told him whether he had to stay up here while the plumber did his job, right? It was boring without Hedwig, and despite his previous intentions, homework sounded like the last activity he wanted to do right now.

Besides, Potters were nothing if not susceptible to flights of curiosity and rule-breaking excursions. And adventures were this Potter's wont!

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A/N: The more who review, the faster I'll attempt to update!

**AngelMoon Girl**


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